Chicago outing

We spent one night away from the farm this past weekend.  We moved here more than 18 months ago.  It was my first night away since we got the cows in January, maybe even longer. Excerpt (from the Little Golden Books version of The Country Mouse and the City Mouse): "Oh Annie (said the city mouse), won't you leave this dull country life behind and come to the city with me?"  "My, it does sound tempting," said Annie. Our daughter set it up:  An overnight stay at the Radisson in downtown Chicago, a walking tour to the German Christmas market, a walking tour of the Lincoln Park Zoolights, a few train and bus rides, a small tour of her new apartment.  It was very nice, even though the FARM was at the back of my mind the whole time.   I left the poultry shut up in the barn.  They can survive without free ranging for 24 hours. They had extra feed and extra water dishes set out.  Easy to leave them. I left Ruby the half-grown calf to nurse on her mama without scheduling anyone to come and milk Bessie on Sunday morning.  Ruby did a fine job of emptying that udder and drinking the extra 1 1/2 gallons of milk that would normally have gone into our refrigerator after milking.  Pretty easy to leave them, knowing that Bessie didn't need to be milked by a human..... A friend came to let the dogs out during the 12 hours that no-one was home (Michael was home late on Saturday night to take over).  Rocky was no problem.  Contrary to how huskies are SUPPOSED to behave, he is a furry bundle of adoration when someone comes into the house.  Shadow was the problem and refused to let our friend take her outside, but forlornly took bread-cubes from her in the kitchen instead.  (Any dog that is "mine" tends to brood and pout when I'm gone).  Knowing that the dogs were taken care of, not too difficult to leave them. The farm was fine, even though I wasn't here to efficiently run and oversee every detail for 24+ hours.  Imagine that! Meanwhile, in Chicago: The German market was so packed that we forced our way through the crowd just once before unanimously voting to move on.  The 5 of us had been looking forward to choosing a Christmas ornament for ourselves, but that idea was quickly replaced with running full speed away from the crushing weight of too many people in one small courtyard. Excerpt:  Annie rode off to the city with her friend.  Honk!  Honk!  Beep!  Beep!  Toot!  Toot!  "Please drive slowly," begged Annie.  "Can't hear a word," screamed Melissa.  "Isn't it marvelous fun?" We walked a LOT.  We took a train.  We walked some more.  We ate at an Indian restaurant on the walk from train station to zoo.   Excerpt:  "Melissa's home in the city was beautiful.  And such fun to explore!  Gaily they raced down the hall." The zoo lights were pretty, as usual.  Even more interesting was chuckling at the reaction of people, whether those people were oohing about lights that flashed in time with jazzy Christmas music or making incredulous comments about reptiles.  Carrie has had numerous different reptiles or snakes as pets, and it was funny to stand in front of the boa enclosure and listen to what people were saying, contrasted with the quiet and amused snorts that Carrie was making in response to non-reptile-loving people.  It was more amusing than usual to watch people who were watching sleeping gorillas or chimps, and how exciting that was (no movement, a big black lump, no interaction).  Maybe we're just spoiled with all of the wide-awake animals that greet us every day..... Excerpt:  Suddenly, WHOOF! barked a fierce, angry voice.  "Help! It's the dog!" squeaked Melissa.  And the two friends ran, shaking with fright.  They slammed the dining-room door, just in time.  The poor country mouse almost fainted with fear.  But Melissa said, "Oh, he chases me all the time. We took 2 buses.  One was awkward.  A large man was taking up the back row of 5 seats, sitting in the very center of the row. He seemed angry, and glared at anyone who chose to stand rather than scoot past him into the corner seats.  On one hand, there should have been no problem sitting next to him.  On the other, his mood was sending off icy vibes into the whole back area of the bus. We chose to stand.....and he glared at us. Back at the hotel, the room was very nice but also very black-and-white and modern.  I found that the pillows were too comfy, and ended up snuggling my head on a little throw-pillow that had a big more substance to it before I could drift off to sleep. In the morning, I had an overpowering urge to breathe something/ANYTHING other than the recycled and stale air of the hotel.  I slid the patio door open and tried not to look straight down (we were on the 15th floor--not high up by Chicago standards but still.....) The air was fresher than inside and there was a slight breeze.  That was nice.  I looked down at the very manicured dog-park and tried to imagine how many of our 2 acre farms could fit into the outline.  The park could have been 10 acres, maybe more.  It was perfect, every tree in place and pruned, no weeds, walkways slicing through at just the right location, a few dogs barking, a little Yorkie on a leash looking like a small dot criss-crossing the sidewalk..... Over to the left, a building was almost complete and a landscaping company was setting up the pool area.  They were literally BLOWING perfectly mixed soil from their landscaping dump-truck through a huge pipe and into the raised beds that would house perfectly manicured shrubs or perfectly chosen grasses to set the stage for a perfect day at the pool.  I was suddenly overwhelmed by how PERFECT everything was, nothing left to chance except maybe a tiny weed that hadn't been discovered yet.   I missed the farm and imagined just lying back in imperfect grass that had been nibbled too short by the ducks or scratched into oblivion by chickens (or pooped on by cows), and looking up into the crossed branches of trees that should probably be trimmed but were growing in a tangle instead. Jeff and I spent an hour or so on the relatively quiet and almost abandoned beach by Lake Michigan while we waited for Carrie, Chris and Jeremy to get moving, and talked about how to "get away" more often..... We all met at the Field Museum and checked out some new exhibits.  We checked out the hatching chicks and got caught up in watching one that was about to break free.  Chris tried to steer me past the "Farm Technology" but I was intrigued by all the descriptions of cow-milking and the video of a calf being born and the wall display of the stomachs of a cow.... Someone behind us was totally grossed out by the calf-video of birth, while all I could think was "Why does that calf need someone to deliver it?  It should have been fine on it's own!". (The video was from Trinity Oaks farm, where calves are delivered in glass-walled observatory/delivery rooms every 20 minutes for paying customers to watch).   I had a few precious moments with just Carrie (mother-daughter time is precious whenever it happens!) as the guys checked out the REAL technology display upstairs.   Excerpt:  The country mouse began to run.  "Annie, where are you going?"  called Melissa. "Home, to the country," squeaked Annie.  "Thank you for the very nice time! (Oh, help!)" We headed out, said goodbye to Carrie, and drove Chris back to college in DeKalb.  Jeff pointed out some historic brick farmhouses along the way back to Woodstock.  I watched all the dark, open farmfields roll by and realized that I'm probably spoiled for life--open farmland versus crowded/cement-encased city life?  I'll take the farmland any day! Excerpt:  The little mouse ran through the city.  She ran and ran and ran.  And she did not stop until she was safe in the quiet green country. Arriving home, what do you think I did first?  Checked on the animals.  They were all fine, except for needing some fresh water.  The concentrated smell of dogs was not pleasant in the kitchen, but....they were closed in there for nearly 2 days, with limited access to being outside.  Excusable. And what did I do next?  I poured myself a big glass of cold milk, and was very glad to be home!  ;) Excerpt:  That night the little mouse told her friends "I would rather lead a simple life....." Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/ The whole Country Mouse story, a favorite from my childhood: Annie Mouse lived quietly in the country.  One day her friend from the city came to visit her.  Annie was delighted.   "Melissa dear, welcome to the country!"  she said.  "Do come in!" Annie Mouse asked some friends in for lunch.  But Melissa did not eat one nibble of the meal that Annie proudly served.   "In the city I dine on spice cake and wine," said the city mouse, rather grandly. "In the city I have a machine that plays music, and I dance on a velvet carpet," said Melissa. "Oh, Annie, won't you leave this dull country life behind, and come to the city with me?" "My, it does sound tempting," said Annie. So Annie rode off to the city with her friend.  Honk! Honk! Beep! Beep! Toot! Toot!  "Please drive slowly," begged Annie. "Can't hear a word," screamed Melissa. "Isn't it marvelous fun?" Melissa's home in the city was beautiful.  And such fun to explore!  Gaily they raced down the hall. Suddenly, WHOOF! barked a fierce, angry voice. "Help! It's the dog!" squeaked Melissa. And the two friends ran, shaking with fright. They slammed the dining-room door, just in time.  The poor country mouse almost fainted with fear. But Melissa said, "Oh, he chases me all the time.  Come Annie, climb up on the table beside me.  Have you ever seen such food?" "Never!" gasped Annie, still shaking with fright. There were dainty bits of spice cake, and fine cheese, and even a drop of wine in the glasses. "Ooooh, I am seeing things!" squeaked Annie suddenly.  "I see a cat!" "It is a cat!" cried Melissa.  "Run, Run!" They slammed the living room door, just in time. "Oh" sobbed Annie.  "I have never been so frightened!" "Nonsense, you'll get used to it," said Melissa.  "There, I've put on the music machine.  Would you care to dance?" Suddenly the door flew open and there was a fearful noise. "It's the vacuum cleaner!" shrieked Melissa.  "Hold on to that curtain, Annie!  Hold tight, or the vacuum will gobble you up!" At last the dreadful machine left.  And the country mouse began to run. "Annie, where are you going?" called Melissa. "Home to the country," squeaked Annie.  "Goodbye, Melissa.  Thank-you for the very nice time.  Oh. Help! Oh! Oh! Oh!" The little mouse ran through the city.  She ran and ran and ran.  And she did not stop until she was safe in the quiet green country. That night she told her gentle friends, "I would rather lead a simple life than dine on riches, and live in fear."

Fw: Farm thoughts

The rough draft from yesterday turned out to be rougher than I thought.  Whole sections repeated themselves and made it very confusing.  Here is the better version (although still a "rough" draft) Photo:  The farmhouse waits to be rediscovered 2 1/2 years ago.... This is a rough draft of what I thought of this morning and wanted to get all the loose ends down on "paper".  Another stream-of-consciousness writing assignment, so it might not make much sense, and is pretty long.....but I think everything is worth saying, whether I'm the only one to read it or not!  ;) I was thinking about how the "spark" of wanting to live on a farm was rekindled a few years ago as I filtered the milk this morning.  I always loved the idea of living in the country, having lots of animals, that sort of thing.  Milking a cow or gathering eggs might have been a small fleeting thought at some point in my childhood, but it didn't figure into the dream as much as owning a horse or galloping across a pasture on that horse.  I do remember one elementary-school field trip to Williamsburg when our class watched a sheep being sheared, and the little greasy fluff of wool that I treasured for years afterwards, but cows and chickens?  Probably not..... Ten years ago, I was pretty firmly entrenched in being the suburban mom who keeps everyone else's schedules going, and was getting burned out pretty quickly.  By the time Michael was born (3rd child) I felt like I'd lost my ability to mentally keep track of everything and the talent of multitasking went right out the window.  By the time Jeremy was born 6 years later, I was having real trouble keeping up with things and suburban life just wasn't satisfying, there was no space in our yard for a new garden venture, the gardens that existed were pretty but were needing more care than I had energy for.....in short, I was not doing a very good job at being mom, taxi driver, chef, home-work helper....  Mothering or being a good wife or trusted volunteer all seemed like areas that I was failing miserably at, and some days I didn't even have the energy to try anymore.  I was going to counseling.  I was on antidepressants.  The small voice in my head still told me that I was not living up to expectations and how could I hold my head high in confidence when I was so inept at what I was supposed to be doing? A small blurb in the church bulletin described a women's hiking retreat to Shenandoah National Park with a mom that I knew from Christopher's class at Immanuel.  If it had been someone I didn't know leading the trip, it would have never caught my attention in the way that it did.  This seemed like a lifeline in the middle of what had become a rather bleak point in my life (at least from my perspective back then!). I prayed about it, and presented it to Jeff after talking with Carol, the leader.  Jeff agreed to let me go, and paid the cost (not cheap, but totally worth it). I went in May, ending the nursing of our last child in order to go.  (In fairness, it was time. Not like I left a 3 week old baby to suddenly adjust to formula!)  But, that was a milestone in my life that I hadn't wanted to reach, because now there would be no more babies to nurse….. The company of the ladies was just what I needed, and I rediscovered who I was and how I fit into God's creation (sounds cheesy, but I'd unknowingly lost myself in the day-to-day and minute-to-minute job of caring for everyone around me.) Surprise!  I had fun, I pointed things out that the others were thrilled to see, I felt free to share my own unique personality and also my faith in the safety of that circle.  I "experienced God" in a way that I'd never known Him before in the company of those women.  The company of those women was so much more than just a week of hiking:  praying together, sharing life experiences, enjoying life away from the demands of "home" for all of us.  Just invigorating in every sense of the word.  That trip was followed by a scouting trip in July (camping with Carol, checking out trails that could potentially be used in future retreats....)  Again, I discovered that I was much more than the tired Mom that had run herself ragged to keep everyone happy back home.  I rediscovered so many things that had thrilled me as a child:  Tent caterpillars and their soft furry feel, acorns and beechnuts on the ground, salamanders creeping across the trail…..hiking through Virginia woods seemed somehow familiar.  And that type of woods WAS familiar:  We lived in Ft. Belvoir when I was 5, and our military housing backed up to woods.  As a young kid, we found those same kinds of caterpillars, as well as Luna moths, Indian arrowheads, and all kinds of other exciting things, and explored as far as we were allowed to go in the woods behind our house. Other trips followed, and Carol saw in me some leadership qualities that I never would have thought were there.  The other ladies on other trips encouraged me in the role of leader-in-training, and I learned all that I could from Carol, anticipating the retreat when I would actually lead.  Imagine that!--me, a leader and not just a follower.  What an adventure! A few years after that first trip, I was excited to organize and lead a retreat on my own.  God led me through the devotion writing, choosing popular hymns and songs to coordinate with daily lessons, planning the trails and lodging we'd be using.  I had some interested women, friends and family, but their life-stages weren't right for a retreat and one by one they regretfully had to tell me that they could not go.  God gave me no indication that I should cancel the whole thing.  The conviction that this is what He had for me to do never left.  It finally came down to me and one friend--Jane. We knew that our husbands were nervous about the two of us going, so we invited them to come along.  It became a 2 couple retreat, and we diligently followed the plans and devotions as a run-through for a future retreat.  That future retreat never materialized, but the time with Myles and Jane was absolutely wonderful.  A blessing from God, for sure! During that trip, we met two motorcycle riders, a husband and wife (and their crazed little cycle-riding chihuahua), and that's where the farm idea started forming in my head.  These two lived on a farm in the valley and rode up to the park when they were able to.  Jeff and I thought that was a wonderful compromise--live near a state park, own a farm after raising our kids, have the best of all worlds.....  A spark started in my mind about farming.   (That's where this whole dialogue was leading.) Since those trips, I've heard a number of times the same message.  Not sure I can put it into words that pull all the thoughts together, but here goes:  As you become immersed in adulthood, you can lose sight of the things that brought you joy as a kid.  But...some of those joyful experiences give you a clue as to what God has in mind for your life, or clues to what God has given you as gifts to cherish.  You can rediscover child-like wonder in the things around you, especially if you've come to a place in your life where nothing seems to lift your spirits.  The things that spoke the most about who you WERE as a kid (for me: finding a fat toad under a mossy rock, or digging up an arrowhead after a heavy rain, or hiking when the leaves are shimmering with dew in the early morning) still speak the most about who you ARE now.  Those things get buried in the day-to-day drudgery of adult life if you forget the childhood wonder that you've left behind.  For me, finding a bright green tree frog out here on the farm and sharing it with my kids is an exciting thing--I used to do that with Chris and Carrie when they were little.  We set up stinky tanks of pond water in the house to raise polliwogs.  We went to the park to just play.  We walked the neighborhood and picked up red leaves to press between sheets of wax paper. We grew dill in the garden and picked the caterpillars off the plants to raise in a jar, just for the wonder of watching the tiger swallowtail butterfly hatch and then be set free.  I had lost some of that joy as baby #3 was born, as the schedules got more difficult to physically keep up with, as baby # 4 was born, as nap-time for baby or toddler became drive-the-siblings-to-practice time.....   The hiking retreats brought back my life-long fascination with nature, my love of the outdoors, the way all of creation could turn my thoughts into thanksgiving to God for making everything so beautiful and wonderful, and also set the spark in my thought-process about a farm….maybe in the shadow of Shenandoah National Park. That was probably phase one of the journey to becoming a hobby farmer--an idea that was there long before, but never truly seen as a possibility. Phase 2 would have been this: Hearing various friend talk about childhood life on a farm and what they missed (or didn't miss!) Going to church with my parents in western Wisconsin and seeing farmers as real people Visiting my sister Paula and her husband and kids in Tennessee, and seeing their self-sufficiency and the joy in their lives as they worked together to provide for themselves and for the people around them. Driving south to Atlanta or north to Wisconsin and having Jeff tell me to pick my chin up off the floor or stop "rubber-necking" (I was gaping at farmhouses and barns and animals out in the fields…..) Hearing about how my cousin Sarah was farming in Michigan, raising chickens, selling eggs, growing produce for her own family and for a small CSA (community supported agriculture) that she set up.  (I was a jealous, truth be told!) Having a wonderful harvest of peaches from one of the trees in our Palatine yard, and freezing them and making jam….. Joining a CSA that delivered a box full of their own farm-grown produce every week for 30 weeks out of the year, and hanging on every word of their newsletters Thinking that our own life could encompass so much more than sports practices and games, the seemingly endless and energy-draining  fundraisers and activities for school and church, the maintaining of gardens of pretty flowers rather than vegetables and fruit trees….. The chicks which became our first "livestock" in a decidedly non-livestock-friendly town. Then came the gift card to a book store, and Jeremy chose one book and I stood in front of the self-sufficiency row and couldn't decide which one to buy.  My choice was Carla Emery's "The Encyclopedia of Country Living", and if my attention wasn't firmly heading in the direction of "FARM", it sure was after reading just the chicken-chapter of that book.  It sparked Jeff's imagination too, just a little, when I gave him no choice but to listen to me read word-for-word different sections of that book.  Whatever the "phases", here we are.  Like when I was in training for leading retreats, I have no doubt that we are here because God orchestrated it.  I would love to think that we'll spend the rest of our lives here, but already there are things (like new county ordinances) that are putting that assumption into question.  But here are the things that I love about this place, both the physical "place" and the "place" that I find myself in at this point in my life: Learning every day, whether I really want to or not Being out in the fresh air, whether it's comfortable weather or extreme cold or heat Having a routine that includes lots of animals Milking a cow every day, rain or snow or shine, and having her and her lovely calf become more and more calm as we learn to work with each other Discovering that I'm tougher and more capable than I ever would have thought (Lift a 50 pound bag of feed?  No problem!) Growing a small percent of what we eat as a family (at this point, it's eggs and milk and chicken meat, not much more) Living in an area where I can run to the store and not worry about not having put make-up on my face or changed out of dingy clothes. The friendliness and genuine caring spirit of the people we meet:  Feedstore owners become friend s who share advice and produce, co-op customers become sources for other healthy produce or meat options, hay farmers become not just feed sources but connections by which other connections are made, people go out of their way to be helpful or even give up hours or days to "help", just for the sake of helping (and we can do the same).  The sense of community, even when we don't know all of our neighbors and haven't lived all of our lives in this community (going to the general store for an ice cream or other treat, each and every time we've had a friendly conversation with just about every other customer in the store).   I am happy here.  It brings joy to my life—the one hundred-plus chickens, the cows who now trot right over for a treat, the dogs who run circles for an hour every morning in the pasture, even the rats or predators that we need to outwit.  Being here reminds me in so many ways of childhood joys and of who God created me to be, at least in my limited understanding of that creation.  I will praise Him for this time that we're here and even when this particular opportunity comes to an end. And in some ways, I'm sure the time here will bring out other qualities that I never expected to see in myself or in my husband or kids, and those God-given qualities will pave the way or teach us skills that we'll need for the next "phase" of our lives. Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Pasture play-time

Photo:  Ruby and mama (over a month ago) Funny story from this morning: I've kept the dogs out of the cow pen and watched very carefully when the cows are in the pasture and the dogs interact with them.  Rocky is always on a leash when I let him get close to Ruby (she's still a bit too coy and curious, and tends to bat her eyes at Rocky and dare him to chase her.  Rocky is willing to give chase at the drop of a hat, and will unintentionally switch from "chasing" to "hunting" as he tries to corner her.)  The photo above is to show Ruby's size the last time Rocky had the chance to chase her.  She was big then, but now she stands much taller, and has a bit of a chance against him. This morning, the temperature was above freezing, which meant that I needed to haul multiple wheelbarrows-full of manure-straw litter from the cow pen out into the pasture.  I'm dumping it along the branch-line of the white pine stands, where the needles have formed a thick brown mat on the ground and are choking out the grass.  The manure idea is that--winter snow and spring rains will wash the manure into the grass, chickens and ducks and geese will help to spread and aerate the rained-on manure, the good qualities of the spread-out manure and straw as they decompose in the spring will counteract the acidity of the pine needles, and pasture grass might have a chance.  We need all the pasture grass that we can get! By the 4th wheelbarrow-trip, I got tired of closing the cow gate behind me to keep the dogs out, and let Ruby follow me out into the pasture.  Shadow came and sniffed noses nicely with her.  (I HAVE been encouraging Shadow to "bring her home" in the evenings when it's just me, Shadow and Ruby out in the field.  Shadow gets the idea, and knows that she is allowed to run after Ruby at that point.  What Shadow doesn't know is that, with Bessie already in the cow pen, the praise I shower on Shadow is false.  Ruby would dash to wherever mama is.) Rocky was distracted from seeing Ruby trot out, busy watching to see if the mouse that Sly was after would dash into the fenced area where he could get it instead. As soon as Rocky saw Ruby, he was off like a shot, wolf-eyes gleaming with mischief as he tore after her.  She saw him coming, kicked into the air and took off, full speed, dodging around and trying to lose him or get in a lucky kick on a tight turn.  Shadow can't resist a chase, so she joined in and Ruby was panicking just a little. Watchful mama Bessie hadn't come out of the cow pen yet, and was on instant alert:  she perked up her ears and ran back and forth inside the cow-fencing in consternation for her baby's safety.  She galloped out the gate with the intent to get down to business (protecting her innocent little child) and then stopped dead in her tracks and gave me a direct look.  I was standing still with the big black wheelbarrow, the dogs and Ruby were flying around the pasture, and Bessie just stood there looking at me, ears swiveled in my direction, eye-contact, no other movement, waiting...... I said "Well, go and teach them a LESSON!"  With that, Bessie immediately tossed her head, took stock of where the pesky dogs were torturing her baby, gave a bucking bronco kick (legs kick off to one side, udder swings to the other), and tore off.  Her timing was perfect--as if she had been truly waiting for permission to go and wreak havoc. If I'd been one of the dogs, I would have run for my life.  I could almost imagine Bessie's eyes turning blood-red and steam snorting out of her nose as she bore down on them. Ruby was running circles and then hiding behind her mama, batting her long eyelashes in defiance at the dogs.  Bessie was circling, trying to shield her little lamb from the big bad wolves.  Rocky was circling and laughing, trying to get in little nips here and there to incite the situation further.  Shadow was keeping her distance but ready to chase at the first opportunity.  Bessie was not swerving from her near-murderous idea of taking those play-ground bullies to task. I was regretting my decision to encourage her to pound on the dogs, when I noticed that all 4 creatures seemed have changed tactics and were now frolicking together more than battling.  Rocky was no longer doing the chasing, but was joyfully tearing around the yard with Ruby running after him.  Shadow was circling and running but chasing no-one in particular.  Bessie was trotting and turning along with Ruby, ever watchful but having a little fun.  (The clue that it was play?  That Rocky was leading the charge and encouraging everyone to chase him, rather than acting like a wolf that's looking to take down his next kill.) It didn't last very long, as Ruby started coughing and needed to dash over for a drink of water.  Rocky got there first, and he and Ruby drank from the same trough for a little while, just until Bessie ambled over.  At that point, she decided that she WOULD teach Rocky a lesson, thank-you-very-much, and cornered him in the milking stanchion, nearly snorting steam.  Her eyes took on a rather mean glint that meant "business".  He looked like he was only sort-of enjoying the challenge, but she wouldn't back down and he snapped at her nose in fear a couple of times before I called him away. The whole thing was humorous, and I must have been laughing out loud as it played out.  The second best part?  Rocky is stretched out, totally exhausted, sleeping soundly in the sun, giving me time to type this without worrying about whether a free-ranging chicken will become a morning snack for him! The best part?  Bessie stopping in her tracks to look at me, seeming to ask if she could do what she's been wanting to do for a long time now, nodding her head as I "gave" her permission, and taking off at full speed with that little buck and kick and swinging udder!  ;) Have a good weekend, everyone! Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Farm thoughts

Photo:  The farmhouse waits to be rediscovered 2 1/2 years ago.... This is a rough draft of what I thought of this morning and wanted to get all the loose ends down on "paper".  Another stream-of-consciousness writing assignment, so it might not make much sense, and is pretty long.....but I think everything is worth saying, whether I'm the only one to read it or not!  ;) I was thinking about how the "spark" of wanting to live on a farm was rekindled a few years ago as I filtered the milk this morning.  I always loved the idea of living in the country, having lots of animals, that sort of thing.  Milking a cow or gathering eggs might have been a small fleeting thought at some point in my childhood, but it didn't figure into the dream as much as owning a horse or galloping across a pasture on that horse.  I do remember one elementary-school field trip to Williamsburg when our class watched a sheep being sheared, and the little greasy fluff of wool that I treasured for years afterwards, but cows and chickens?  Probably not..... Ten years ago, I was pretty firmly entrenched in being the suburban mom who keeps everyone else's schedules going, and was getting burned out pretty quickly.  By the time Michael was born (3rd child) I felt like I'd lost my ability to mentally keep track of everything and the talent of multitasking went right out the window.  By the time Jeremy was born 6 years later, I was having real trouble keeping up with things and suburban life just wasn't satisfying, there was no space in our yard for a new garden venture, the gardens that existed were pretty but were needing more care than I had energy for.....in short, I was not doing a very good job at being mom, taxi driver, chef, home-work helper....  Mothering or being a good wife or trusted volunteer all seemed like areas that I was failing miserably at, and some days I didn't even have the energy to try anymore.  I was going to counseling.  I was on antidepressants.  The small voice in my head still told me that I was not living up to expectations and how could I hold my head high in confidence when I was so inept at what I was supposed to be doing? A small blurb in the church bulletin described a women's hiking retreat to Shenandoah National Park with a mom that I knew from Christopher's class at Immanuel.  If it had been someone I didn't know leading the trip, it would have never caught my attention in the way that it did.  This seemed like a lifeline in the middle of what had become a rather bleak point in my life (at least from my perspective back then!). I prayed about it, and presented it to Jeff after talking with Carol, the leader.  Jeff agreed to let me go, and paid the cost (not cheap, but totally worth it). I went in May, ending the nursing of our last child in order to go.  (In fairness, it was time. Not like I left a 3 week old baby to suddenly adjust to formula!)  But, that was a milestone in my life that I hadn't wanted to reach, because now there would be no more babies to nurse….. The company of the ladies was just what I needed, and I rediscovered who I was and how I fit into God's creation (sounds cheesy, but I'd unknowingly lost myself in the day-to-day and minute-to-minute job of caring for everyone around me.) Surprise!  I had fun, I pointed things out that the others were thrilled to see, I felt free to share my own unique personality and also my faith in the safety of that circle.  I "experienced God" in a way that I'd never known Him before in the company of those women.  The company of those women was so much more than just a week of hiking:  praying together, sharing life experiences, enjoying life away from the demands of "home" for all of us.  Just invigorating in every sense of the word.  That trip was followed by a scouting trip in July (camping with Carol, checking out trails that could potentially be used in future retreats....)  Again, I discovered that I was much more than the tired Mom that had run herself ragged to keep everyone happy back home.  I rediscovered so many things that had thrilled me as a child:  Tent caterpillars and their soft furry feel, acorns and beechnuts on the ground, salamanders creeping across the trail…..hiking through Virginia woods seemed somehow familiar.  And that type of woods WAS familiar:  We lived in Ft. Belvoir when I was 5, and our military housing backed up to woods.  As a young kid, we found those same kinds of caterpillars, as well as Luna moths, Indian arrowheads, and all kinds of other exciting things, and explored as far as we were allowed to go in the woods behind our house. Other trips followed, and Carol saw in me some leadership qualities that I never would have thought were there.  The other ladies on other trips encouraged me in the role of leader-in-training, and I learned all that I could from Carol, anticipating the retreat when I would actually lead.  Imagine that!--me, a leader and not just a follower.  What an adventure!   Since those trips, I've heard a number of times the same message.  Not sure I can put it into words that pull all the thoughts together, but here goes:  As you become immersed in adulthood, you can lose sight of the things that brought you joy as a kid.  But...some of those joyful experiences give you a clue as to what God has in mind for your life, or clues to what God has given you as gifts to cherish.  You can rediscover child-like wonder in the things around you, especially if you've come to a place in your life where nothing seems to lift your spirits.  The things that spoke the most about who you WERE as a kid (for me: finding a fat toad under a mossy rock, or digging up an arrowhead after a heavy rain, or hiking when the leaves are shimmering with dew in the early morning) still speak the most about who you ARE now.  Those things get buried in the day-to-day drudgery of adult life if you forget the childhood wonder that you've left behind.  For me, finding a bright green tree frog out here on the farm and sharing it with my kids is an exciting thing--I used to do that with Chris and Carrie when they were little.  We set up stinky tanks of pond water in the house to raise polliwogs.  We went to the park to just play.  We walked the neighborhood and picked up red leaves to press between sheets of wax paper. We grew dill in the garden and picked the caterpillars off the plants to raise in a jar, just for the wonder of watching the tiger swallowtail butterfly hatch and then be set free. The hiking retreats brought back my life-long fascination with nature, my love of the outdoors, the way all of creation could turn my thoughts into thanksgiving to God for making everything so beautiful and wonderful. I was thinking about how the "spark" of wanting to live on a farm was rekindled a few years ago.  I always loved the idea of living in the country, having lots of animals, that sort of thing.  Milking a cow or gathering eggs might have been a small fleeting thought at some point in my childhood, but it didn't figure into the dream as much as owning a horse or galloping across a pasture on that horse. I was pretty firmly entrenched in being the suburban mom who keeps everyone else's schedules going, and was getting burned out pretty quickly.  When Michael was born (3rd child) I felt like I'd lost my ability to mentally keep track of everything and the talent of multitasking went right out the window.  By the time Jeremy was born 6 years later, I was having real trouble keeping up with things and suburban life just wasn't satisfying, there was no space in our yard for a new garden venture, the gardens that existed were pretty but were needing more care than I had energy for.....in short, I was not doing a very good job at being mom, taxi driver, chef, home-work helper....  Mothering or being a good wife or trusted volunteer all seemed like areas that I was failing miserably at, and some days I didn't even have the energy to try anymore.  I was going to counseling.  I was on antidepressants.  The small voice in my head still told me that I was not living up to expectations. A small blurb in the church bulletin described a women's hiking retreat to Shenandoah National Park with a mom that I knew from Christopher's class at Immanuel.  If it had been someone I didn't know leading the trip, it would have never caught my attention in the way that it did.  This seemed like a lifeline in the middle of what had become a rather bleak life (at least from my perspective back then!). I prayed about it, and presented it to Jeff after talking with Carol, the leader.  Jeff agreed to let me go, and paid the cost (not cheap, but totally worth it). I went in May, ending the nursing of our last child in order to go.  (In fairness, it was time. Not like I left a 3 week old baby to suddenly adjust to formula!)  The company of the ladies was just what I needed, and I rediscovered who I was and how I fit into God's creation (sounds cheesy, but I'd unknowingly lost myself in the day-to-day and minute-to-minute job of caring for everyone around me.) Surprise!  I had fun, I saw things and pointed things out that the others were thrilled to see, I "experienced God" in a way that I'd never known Him before in the company of those women.  The company of those women was so much more:  praying together, sharing life experiences, enjoying life away from the demands of "home" for all of us.  Just invigorating in every sense of the word.  That trip was followed by a scouting trip in July (camping with Carol, checking out trails that could potentially be used in future retreats....)  Again, I discovered that I was much more than the tired Mom that had to keep everyone happy back home.  I rediscovered so many things that had thrilled me as a child:  Tent caterpillars and their soft furry feel, acorns and beechnuts on the ground, hiking through Virginia woods that seemed somehow familiar.  And that type of woods WAS familiar:  We lived in Ft. Belvoir when I was 5, and our military housing backed up to woods.  As a young kid, we found those caterpillars, as well as Luna moths, Indian arrowheads, and all kinds of other exciting things, and explored as far as we were allowed to go in the woods behind our house. Other trips followed, and Carol saw in me some leadership qualities that I never would have thought were there.  The other ladies on other trips encouraged me in the role of leader-in-training, and I learned all that I could from Carol, anticipating the retreat when I would actually lead.  Imaging that--me, a leader and not just a follower.  What an adventure! I was thinking about how the "spark" of wanting to live on a farm was rekindled a few years ago.  I always loved the idea of living in the country, having lots of animals, that sort of thing.  Milking a cow or gathering eggs might have been a small fleeting thought at some point in my childhood, but it didn't figure into the dream as much as owning a horse or galloping across a pasture on that horse. I was pretty firmly entrenched in being the suburban mom who keeps everyone else's schedules going, and was getting burned out pretty quickly.  When Michael was born (3rd child) I felt like I'd lost my ability to mentally keep track of everything and the talent of multitasking went right out the window.  By the time Jeremy was born 6 years later, I was having real trouble keeping up with things and suburban life just wasn't satisfying, there was no space in our yard for a new garden venture, the gardens that existed were pretty but were needing more care than I had energy for.....in short, I was not doing a very good job at being mom, taxi driver, chef, home-work helper....  Mothering or being a good wife or trusted volunteer all seemed like areas that I was failing miserably at, and some days I didn't even have the energy to try anymore.  I was going to counseling.  I was on antidepressants.  The small voice in my head still told me that I was not living up to expectations. A small blurb in the church bulletin described a women's hiking retreat to Shenandoah National Park with a mom that I knew from Christopher's class at Immanuel.  If it had been someone I didn't know leading the trip, it would have never caught my attention in the way that it did.  This seemed like a lifeline in the middle of what had become a rather bleak life (at least from my perspective back then!). I prayed about it, and presented it to Jeff after talking with Carol, the leader.  Jeff agreed to let me go, and paid the cost (not cheap, but totally worth it). I went in May, ending the nursing of our last child in order to go.  (In fairness, it was time. Not like I left a 3 week old baby to suddenly adjust to formula!)  The company of the ladies was just what I needed, and I rediscovered who I was and how I fit into God's creation (sounds cheesy, but I'd unknowingly lost myself in the day-to-day and minute-to-minute job of caring for everyone around me.) Surprise!  I had fun, I saw things and pointed things out that the others were thrilled to see, I "experienced God" in a way that I'd never known Him before in the company of those women.  The company of those women was so much more:  praying together, sharing life experiences, enjoying life away from the demands of "home" for all of us.  Just invigorating in every sense of the word.  That trip was followed by a scouting trip in July (camping with Carol, checking out trails that could potentially be used in future retreats....)  Again, I discovered that I was much more than the tired Mom that had to keep everyone happy back home.  I rediscovered so many things that had thrilled me as a child:  Tent caterpillars and their soft furry feel, acorns and beechnuts on the ground, hiking through Virginia woods that seemed somehow familiar.  And that type of woods WAS familiar:  We lived in Ft. Belvoir when I was 5, and our military housing backed up to woods.  As a young kid, we found those caterpillars, as well as Luna moths, Indian arrowheads, and all kinds of other exciting things, and explored as far as we were allowed to go in the woods behind our house. Other trips followed, and Carol saw in me some leadership qualities that I never would have thought were there.  The other ladies on other trips encouraged me in the role of leader-in-training, and I learned all that I could from Carol, anticipating the retreat when I would actually lead.  Imaging that--me, a leader and not just a follower.  What an adventure! A few years after that first trip, I was excited to organize and lead a retreat on my own.  God led me through the devotion writing, choosing popular hymns and songs to coordinate with daily lessons, planning the trails and lodging we'd be using.  I had some interested women, friends and family, but their life-stages weren't right for a retreat and one by one they regretfully had to tell me that they could not go.  God gave me no indication that I should cancel the whole thing.  The conviction that this is what He had for me to do never left.  It finally came down to me and one friend--Jane. We knew that our husbands were nervous about the two of us going, so we invited them to come along.  It became a 2 couple retreat, and we diligently followed the plans and devotions as a run-through for a future retreat.  That future retreat never materialized, but the time with Myles and Jane was absolutely wonderful.  A blessing from God, for sure! During that trip, we met two motorcycle riders, a husband and wife (and their crazed little cycle-riding chihuahua), and that's where the farm idea started forming in my head.  These two lived on a farm in the valley and rode up to the park when they were able to.  Jeff and I thought that was a wonderful compromise--live near a state park, own a farm after raising our kids, have the best of all worlds.....  A spark started in my mind about farming.   (That's where this whole dialogue was leading.)   Since those trips, I've heard a number of times the same message.  Not sure I can put it into words that pull all the thoughts together, but here goes:  As you become immersed in adulthood, you can lose sight of the things that brought you joy as a kid.  But...some of those joyful experiences give you a clue as to how God made you to be uniquely YOU.  Whatever has happened to take your attention away from that child-like wonder at different things in your life, the unique qualities of who you are don't just disappear as you get older.  You can rediscover child-like wonder in the things around you, especially if you've come to a place in your life where nothing seems to lift your spirits.  The things that spoke the most about who you WERE as a kid (for me: finding a fat toad under a mossy rock, or digging up an arrowhead after a heavy rain, or hiking when the leaves are shimmering with dew in the early morning) can still speak the most about who you ARE now.  For me, finding a bright green tree frog out here on the farm and sharing it with my kids is an exciting thing--I used to do that with Chris and Carrie when they were little.  We would set up stinky tanks of pond water in the house to raise polliwogs.  We went to the park to just play.  We walked the neighborhood and picked up red leaves to press between sheets of wax paper. We grew dill in the garden and picked the caterpillars off the plants to raise in a jar, just for the wonder of watching the tiger swallowtail butterfly hatch and then be set free. The hiking retreats brought back my life-long fascination with nature, my love of the outdoors, the way all of creation could turn my thoughts into thanksgiving to God for making everything so beautiful and wonderful, and also set the spark in my thought-process about a farm….maybe in the shadow of Shenandoah National Park. That was probably phase one of the journey to becoming a hobby farmer. Phase 2 would have been this: Hearing various friend talk about childhood life on a farm and what they missed (or didn't miss!) Going to church with my parents in western Wisconsin and seeing farmers as real people Visiting my sister Paula and her husband and kids in Tennessee, and seeing their self-sufficiency and the joy in their lives as they worked together to provide for themselves and for the people around them. Driving south to Atlanta or north to Wisconsin and having Jeff tell me to pick my chin up off the floor or stop "rubber-necking" (I was gaping at farmhouses and barns and animals out in the fields…..) Hearing about how my cousin Sarah was farming in Michigan, raising chickens, selling eggs, growing produce for her own family and for a small CSA (community supported agriculture) that she set up.  (I was a jealous, truth be told!) Having a wonderful harvest of peaches from one of the trees in our Palatine yard, and freezing them and making jam….. Joining a CSA that delivered a box full of their own farm-grown produce every week for 30 weeks out of the year, and hanging on every word of their newsletters Thinking that our own life could encompass so much more than sports practices and games, the seemingly endless and energy-draining  fundraisers and activities for school and church, the maintaining of gardens of pretty flowers rather than vegetables and fruit trees….. The chicks which became our first "livestock" in a decidedly non-livestock-friendly town. Then came the gift card to a book store, and Jeremy chose one book and I stood in front of the self-sufficiency row and couldn't decide which one to buy.  My choice was Carla Emery's "The Encyclopedia of Country Living", and if my attention wasn't firmly heading in the direction of "FARM", it sure was after reading just the chicken-chapter of that book.  It sparked Jeff's imagination too, just a little, when I gave him no choice but to listen to me read word-for-word different sections of that book.  Whatever the "phases", here we are.  Like when I was in training for leading retreats, I have no doubt that we are here because God orchestrated it.  I would love to think that we'll spend the rest of our lives here, but already there are things (like new county ordinances) that are putting that assumption into question.  But here are the things that I love about this place, both the physical "place" and the "place" that I find myself in at this point in my life: Learning every day, whether I really want to or not Being out in the fresh air, whether it's comfortable weather or extreme cold or heat Having a routine that includes lots of animals Milking a cow every day, rain or snow or shine, and having her and her lovely calf become more and more calm as we learn to work with each other Discovering that I'm tougher and more capable than I ever would have thought (Lift a 50 pound bag of feed?  No problem!) Growing a small percent of what we eat as a family (at this point, it's eggs and milk and chicken meat, not much more) Living in an area where I can run to the store and not worry about not having put make-up on my face or changed out of dingy clothes. The friendliness and genuine caring spirit of the people we meet:  Feedstore owners become friend s who share advice and produce, co-op customers become sources for other healthy produce or meat options, hay farmers become not just feed sources but connections by which other connections are made, people go out of their way to be helpful or even give up hours or days to "help", just for the sake of helping (and we can do the same).  The sense of community, even when we don't know all of our neighbors and haven't lived all of our lives in this community (going to the general store for an ice cream or other treat, each and every time we've had a friendly conversation with just about every other customer in the store).   I am happy here.  It brings joy to my life—the one hundred-plus chickens, the cows who now trot right over for a treat, the dogs who run circles for an hour every morning in the pasture, even the rats or predators that we need to outwit.  Being here reminds me in so many ways of childhood joys and of who God created me to be, at least in my limited understanding of that creation.  I will praise Him for this time that we're here and even when this particular opportunity comes to an end. And in some ways, I'm sure the time here will bring out other qualities that I never expected to see in myself or in my husband or kids, and those God-given qualities will pave the way or teach us skills that we'll need for the next "phase" of our lives. Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Some positive signs?

Or...the title could just as easily be "Wishful Thinking" Bessie was "bred" last week on Tuesday, almost a week ago.  For two days before that, her milk supply was below what I've considered normal.  I close Ruby the calf in her stall every night and milk Bess each morning before letting Ruby out for the day.  Ruby nurses when she wants to all day long she is ushered back into the stall for the night again. Bess had given 2 gallons each morning for a while, then it was down to 1 1/2, then 1 and a quart....then was the big day when the vet came and artificially inseminated her.  The next day, her supply bumped right up to a bountiful 2 gallons again, with plenty to spare.  Same thing every day since then, despite my erratic milking times of the past week (everyone has been home from work and school, and some mornings it was SO nice to cheat the farm-schedule and sleep in just a bit!)  One day I felt terrible when I went out to milk her at 10:00 instead of 8, but she was just standing there (very full and ready to be milked!), chewing her cud calmly and waiting for her grain. Not sure if the milk excess would have anything to do with whether she is actually pregnant or not.  It's wishful thinking.  The vet DID say that if I fed her more corn, she'd give more milk.  But this extra milk is coming in despite the fact that I ran out of corn and she's been getting her grain mix without the corn mixed in.  No reason her milk supply should be better than it was a week ago, with no grain to stimulate production. It was hard to believe that the heifer, Lucy, could get pregnant on the first try by the vet.  Bessie is 8 going on 9, and getting pregnant on the first try could be truly amazing.  But....we DID pray for a first-time take, and it would truly bring on a bit of rejoicing if she was pregnant and growing another beautiful calf already.  My only reference:  when Lucy was bred, I noticed that she started acting a bit different.  More protective of Ruby, the calf.  Much more interested in eating all day long.  More maternal towards Ruby and Bessie both, and they'd stand together and just groom (lick) each other.  The vet told me that cows don't act any differently when they are pregnant, though. Maybe milk supply COULD be a sign--Lucy hadn't had a calf yet, so there was no milk supply to gauge her pregnancy/non-pregnancy by.  One funny comment from talking with the vet last week.  Dr. Hall and I were talking about Bessie and her body condition (she was terribly thin just a month or two ago), feeding her more corn for winter fat and more milk, and Dr. Hall commented "She seems to be a very calm cow."  I could have burst out laughing.  All the stories I tell about her, and I make her out to be a monster.  This vet sees hundreds of cows, both dairy and beef cattle, and she describes our Bess as "calm".  Whew!  The truth of the matter is, Bessie is very much calmer now that she isn't fighting a gorgeous young upstart (that would have been Lucy) who is determined to challenge the boss cow's position.  Bessie and her calf, Ruby, make a calm, contented team who are fun to be around and friendly towards anyone bringing a treat.  We can walk up to either one of them out in the pasture and they are usually patient with being petted.  Ruby might toss her head and trot away in playfulness, but Lucy was the feisty one who would thunder away in mock defiance. Yes, we are blessed with a "calm" cow, and that calm cow has a playful but not defiant calf who is turning out to be one beautiful and sweet young lady in her own right.  We'll see if the milk supply theory holds true for another day.  I'm off to milk the cow, just 22 minutes after my "goal" of milking her by 8 am every morning. I'm anxious to know if that calm cow (otherwise known as Bessie) might possibly, potentially, wonderfully have become pregnant on the first try...... Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Thanks Giving

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone! We feasted on our Dykstra traditional favorites:  Turkey with stuffing, "green" potatoes (potatoes, whipped with sour cream, butter, cream cheese, garlic salt, and chives), sweet potato casserole with pecan/brown sugar/coconut topping, gravy (I had to keep most of the giblets separate, but at least there were giblets!), jellied cranberry sauce, rolls with butter, and pies. This year was a little different than what we've celebrated before.  The turkey was succulent and delicious--we all agreed that it was the best ever.  It was the tom turkey that strutted around our barnyard for 6 months. We don't ever want to eat a store-bought turkey again!  Even the breast-meat was juicy and the dark meat was flavorful but not overpowering. The green potatoes were typical, but I don't always use whole potatoes.  Sometimes it's easier to used mashed potatoes, but not this year.  It was real potatoes, boiled first, then mashed.  I would have liked to have home-grown chives and homemade dairy products to use, but that's for another year. The sweet potatoes were cooked from whole and then mashed and whipped until fluffy with sour cream, an egg (from our birds, of course), spices, and then the wonderful crunchy topping.  I've done this before with canned yams, but from scratch just seemed the way to go this year.  Yum.  The cranberry sauce was canned by me after the holidays last year, when cranberries were on clearance in the supermarkets.  Tasty! The rolls?  Homemade, and they turned out light and fluffy and not like little hockey pucks (that's my usual result when I attempt to make rolls).  The butter was made fresh from the cream that rises to the top of Bessie's milk.  We are SO spoiled! I had a whole day to make pies this year, so I went a little over-the-top. Pumpkin....baked from whole pumpkins.  Jeremy went on a field trip and brought home a pie pumpkin, chosen with the idea of pumpkin pie in mind.  So we added a couple of store-bought pie pumpkins and baked them up.  I made 2 pies and a muffin-tin of tiny pumpkin tarts at Jeremy's request. Apple....Apples were hard to come by this year, but I splurged and bought 3 bags of Granny Smith apples at the store and a new stoneware pie plate.  Oh--forgot to mention:  the pie crusts were made with home-rendered lard (pig fat, cooked down to a liquid and then solidified in the frig to use for baking.)  I don't think Crisco-based pie crust will ever taste good again! Pecan....I had bought the pecans a while back at Farm and Fleet.  Not the best place for quality food, but these were good.  With the addition of eggs from our flock, the pecan pie didn't sink down in the middle and was SO delicious. I mistakenly put our new kefir-grains into the cream that I had planned to whip for pie topping, so there was only store-bought vanilla ice cream.  Oh well.  (Side-note on kefir--not sure if I'm doing it right, but we're going to try it and see how it goes.  It ferments in milk, which we have plenty of....and a big thanks to Trephina for the grains!) Now, all of this home-baked yumminess didn't just happen, and wouldn't have happened if not for help from the whole family.  I had potatoes cooked and prepared by Tuesday night, and Jeff took Michael and Jeremy for most of the day Wednesday so that I could have the whole kitchen to myself for pie and bread making.  That's probably the biggest treat of all! Thursday was the first time I worked the "feast' around the Lions football game.  That was nice for Jeff, I think, even though they lost in overtime.  Sigh....  But we finally sat down to dinner around 5:00 and I think everything was traditional, in our family's sense of what we enjoy for Thanksgiving.  At different times while planning, cooking, baking, preparing, cleaning up, and enjoying time with our kids, I was struck by the almost overwhelming thought of what bounty we had to work with.  Even growing our own bird--he was NOT an inexpensive turkey by the time he had eaten for 6 months.  But we didn't have to cut corners, we have a warm house made cozier by the warmth from baking and the smells of cooking, the whole family was together, there was laughter and happiness.....  I hope that we honestly thanked God enough for all that He provided, although I'm sure that we took it all WAY too much for granted.  Sometimes I think of Victorian opulence, and how much MORE we as middle-class Americans have at the swipe of a credit card than the upper-class Victorian elite may have had at any given time.  We are truly spoiled to the point of thinking that somehow we DESERVE what we enjoy from day to day. Psalm 30:11-12 is what we read at the end of our meal: You turned my wailing into dancing, you removed my sack-cloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent.  O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever. Do we really know what it means to have our wailing (absolute grief) turned to dancing (overwhelming joy), or what it means to have rags (of shame?  mourning?  poverty? humiliation?) replaced with true rejoicing?  Most of us haven't experienced the depths to which humanity can sink before having no choice but to turn to God for deliverance. May we sing to God for every small grace in our lives, and thank Him over the course of our entire lives, regardless of our circumstances. Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

I'm not a vet, after all.

Photo:  I know I used this photo a few weeks ago, but....it works just as well to show Bess's opinion of my bed-side manner.... OK, the second shot in Bessie's rear just about made me sick.  I was too nonchalant and not careful enough to set the stage properly.  I stood behind her and hesitated just long enough to make her wonder what I was up to. It was a tinier syringe, harder to get a good hold on.  My jab was less effective than last time, and probably not as well placed in her rather large thigh.  Bessie flinched and tried to walk away, which made me lose hold of the syringe altogether.  She was trying to walk in circles with a syringe hanging down out of her skin--not comfortable, and I'm lucky it didn't get crushed against the wall.  (I can imagine it now--the shame of calling the vet to say that I'd botched the most important shot of them all!) I had to rescue the syringe (carefully!), and pretend to set up the milking stuff all over again to trick her to go back into the stanchion (she KNOWS that we don't milk in the evening these days, so was already suspicious), and then we played "chicken" with me holding the clasp for the rope open and her bobbing away just far enough so that I couldn't clip the lead onto her halter.  She HATES to be contained, that's for sure. But it's done, half an hour later than the vet prescribed, but done. Tomorrow morning the vet comes with the tank of frozen bull-stuff--all neatly encased in tiny little straws for each breeding attempt, and the artificial insemination will be performed.  We'll know in 18-21 days if she isn't pregnant (she should come into her heat cycle unless we have to deal with another cyst), or a suspected pregnancy will be confirmed in 40 days or so.  Sigh....it's the same thing we did with Lucy the heifer to make sure she would be ready for her move to Ohio, but that was stressful enough. Please pray for a successful breeding!  I feel the tension level rising already.  I know that whether Bessie gets pregnant or not on this try is very inconsequential in the big picture, but...."Cast all your cares on Him" keeps running through my mind, and this is definitely the "care" that's on my mind tonight! Laura http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/